The little mockingjay ch 1
by katniss pond
Summary: The truth about Rue. All will become clear in later stories...
1. Chapter 1

I leap on to the next branch. As my fingers find the handhold, I see the white flash of the flag in the distance. Quitting time. I open my mouth and sing the four note tune I know so well. Five seconds later the mockingjays echo it, bouncing it around the orchard. My job done, I leap from the tree, my basket full of various greens, and run through the empting orchard, hair flying. I empty my basket into the huge container and toss it into the pile behind me. Following the crowd, I walk until the huge mass of people in my district dwindle to the few with the furthest homes checking that no one is looking, I climb the huge oak tree in the alley near my home. I jump from tree to tree to tree, with only the softest rustle of leaves. I've done this since I could barely walk; used to scare my mother to death, always worried I would fall. And I did, several times, but I've learnt so well I can even conceal the rustling now. As I climb down from the last tree, I hear a familiar voice behind me. "Hi Rue." Whispers the voice. "Hi Midnight ." I say, turning around.

"Are you ok?" she asks, seeing the fear in my eyes, how I'm standing on my toes as if I can fly away at any moment. But I have every reason to be afraid. Tomorrow is the reaping. Worry dances in her own eyes for a second, and then she hugs me. Midnight is four years older than me and has been like a sister to me since Mother died. She has been feeding her and her brothers Barley and Thresh for years and she found me by chance a few years ago.

I had come to the meadow to find food. Tentatively, I had stepped into a thick clump of bushes, collecting the roots and berries I could find when I heard a loud shot, echoing like a thunderbolt. I stood, paralyzed with fear, when a pair of hands pulled me into a tree. I tried to scream, deciding being murdered by some mysterious bandit was worse than a quick bullet through the brain from a peacekeeper, the hands clamped around my mouth. "Why didn't you hide? We could have died! Don't you know they would shoot us on the spot!" whispered the person. I saw the dark brown braid, the matching eyes, the skin that would never tan except in hottest of heat, and I knew I was safe. I had seen midnight at school she was always surrounded by a huge group of merchant and older girls. She would often shoot me a smile. Our school held a competition to keep our climbing in check. After all we needed it; we would be whipped if we didn't collect enough fruit at harvest. They had tied a rag to the top of the great oak in the town square and the first to get it would win a handful of extra grain at lunch. I entered, planning to give the grain to Barley, who had just started working and was forever exhausted. In the end it was me and Midnight, scrambling neck and neck, until she lost her footing for a second, and I had won. She had been amazed at my skill and, when I told her what it was for, my kindness. In the end we became good friends, foraging together. She was handy with a slingshot and taught me to hunt. I showed her how to whistle to the mockingjays.

As we hunt now, the same blissful atmosphere as always. We bring down some groosling, collect a mountain of greens, and are about to go home when the shot echoes, just like years ago, and we run. As we run, she catches herself on one of the snares set up to catch us. I freak out, "Midnight!"

"I'm fine, run!"

"No!" I scream and run back to help her. We finally untangle her leg, but it is bleeding heavily. We run nonetheless, me supporting her. We don't stop until we are at her house. There Thresh stands patently. "peacekeeper's… snare," I gasp breathlessly.

"Thank you," he says, coming over to support her.

"See you later. Good luck!" she calls her face screwing up in pain as she goes into their tiny shack.


	2. Chapter 2

When I get home, I'm greeted with the joyful cries of "Rue!" and "Did you get a groosling?" as my siblings cascade over me. father follows beaming brightly. Home. The thought that this cold be my last night here makes me want to weep as if I was still as old as little Oaky ,my two year old brother. My pain reflects in their faces, but I made them promise not to cry when the day came, not until it was all over. Then we could celebrate if I was safe. Hoping for the best, we save the best of the food in hope of a celebration. After a relatively quiet dinner I sit outside, watching the sunset, waiting for the peacekeepers to come with the initial reaping result and to tell us its "lights out" and they want us inside. Our district is too big to fit into the town so they reap us initially down to 900 or so who attend the actual reaping. If you get picked the odds are already not in your favour, so that scares me just as much as the real reaping. I rise onto my toes, as I always do when I'm nervous. Mother used to say it looks as if I could fly away at any moment and be free, living amidst the mockingjays. I am miles away from freedom at the moment. "Rue?" its Willow, my oldest little sister, who despite her soft voice makes me jump, because of her silent tread. Lilly and the twins, Basil and Juniper stop playing for a second to see what we are doing.

"What will we do if you get picked?"

"You will be ok, midnight will look after you. And me, well, remember what father said; if they can't catch you they can't kill you so I'll be fine too." The words are more for my own comfort than hers but she cheers up slightly nonetheless. "But what if I get picked too after you go? I mean what do I …"

"Willow, you're eight, don't worry about that now. Look here they come." The peacekeeper come towards us, here to free me of stress or doom me to a sleepless night.

"Rue Summerfield?"

I nod wordlessly.

"You're in The Reaping."


	3. Chapter 3

I try my best to sleep in as late as I can, but eventually I rise before the sun's rays have begun to peep out over the horizon. I tiptoe to the front door, stepping over the sleeping figures of my family.

When I get outside, I take to the trees, leaping swiftly and silently, catching on the slenderest branches. Finally I am there. The little unused meadow behind the orchard. It used to be an orchard, but the blight destroyed all the crops, so they left it. The peacekeepers never think to look here, there doesn't seem to be anything edible out here. But I know there is a little, if you know what to look for. I settle under my willow, the one for which my sister is named. The familiar flash of white feathers tells me that the mockingjays are awake so I curl up on the grass and sing to them.

_When mockingjays dance through the trees,_

_And the long grass waves in the summer breeze,_

_When the river winds a silvery path,_

_You can hear the soft wind laugh:_

_Follow the river's shimmering trail,_

_And you will find where the moon is pale,_

_A meadow bright with flowers abound,_

_A girl whose feet will make no sound_

_She starts to sing, voice sweet as doves,_

_Then turns to see the one she loves_

_Silhouettes against the sky,_

_They dance as if they both can fly._

_The moonlight slowly disappears, _

_An when the sun is almost near,_

_Men with hearts as cold as snow,_

_Take the boy, won't let him go_

_The girl, in rage, becomes a flame,_

_They kill the boy, laugh at her pain_

_As she glows brighter, others come_

_And a battle starts 'neath the rising sun._

_Her flame goes out, the story ends,_

_That is where we meet, my friends,_

_Our time is coming, like her flame_

_We all know there's no time for games_

It's not just a song. It was a code from the dark days telling you how to get to the rebel base. Our people used to sing it a lot until the capitol won the war. Now hearing it is so rare no one even knows what it means anymore, but I love hearing the complicated tune echoed by mockingjays, so I sing it anyway. Soon, the song is fluttering around the meadow as my fear washes away. "Nice song," I jump. It often surprises me how silent midnight can be. "It seems you're pretty well liked. My dad has actually bothered to go to the square this year, instead of just watching on TV. And half the district gasped when they saw your name on the initial reaping shortlist. They won't have a clue when to stop working without you."

"Really? They actually care? I mean, what do I do except sing and forage illegally?"

She looks me in the eyes, deadly serious, and I see them brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry, but they are sure to pick you. Firstly, you have your name in more than any twelve year old ever has. Secondly…"

She trails of as the bell rings to signal six o clock, the hour before the reaping, designated for saying goodbye to those not going. "Were you chosen?" I ask.

"I won't be there to see the reaping," she says "I have to go." She hugs me, and then takes off across the meadow. I fly my way home.

When I get there, my family is waiting outside for me. "Your reaping outfit is inside, get dressed and washed, then come outside. We have something for you." My father's eyes, solemn and intense, reflect the hazy sun. Everyone seems to be wearing that look today, even Oaky, who, though sleeping in Willows arms looks worn and weather-beaten. I go inside and wash in the tiny copper bath. When I get out, I find a beautiful white dress with a blue sash. In the corner is a hand embroidered Mockingjay, Leaping from a branch. I pull it on. Willow and juniper knock, asking to do my hair. Willow braids part of my hair while juniper rushes in and out, collecting blossoms to decorate it with. I sit silently the whole way through. When I get outside, Father pulls out a necklace, made of grass, with a carved wooden clover hanging from the centre. It's a luck charm, one that would once have proved we were part of the uprising in the dark days, letting us into the rebel base. "Thank you!" I hug them each in turn, holding back tears. If what midnight said is true, this could be the last time I see them.

We walk to the square, and, when I see their faces, I give up and tell them they can cry. We dissolve into an emotional wreck, hugging and saying goodbye. I take my place with the few twelve year olds here. After the crowds of families subside The mayor starts his usual speech about how this is punishment for the barbaric uprising of our forefathers and how we should grovel in shame before the Capitol. He says this every year. It is only to help him keep his position. The last mayor was killed for saving his daughter from being whipped because she was out past the curfew. Mayor is a hard position to keep. Then Meyer steps forward to speak. He is the capitol escort for district eleven. He says the same as every escort, but you can tell from his face he wants it over with so he can get back to the capitol and party the shame away. Eleven is the second poorest district and nobody has won for years. "Welcome, welcome, welcome. Happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favour. It has been so long since we had a victor in district eleven. I hope we will find two strong tributes to represent such an… industrious district. Ladies first…" I wonder if Midnight is right and what she was talking about. I watch Meyer trot over to the reaping ball and fish around for a slip. He is wearing bright red lipstick and tattoos curl around his unrealistic yellow eyes and when he smiles, Enobaria style fangs make my blood run cold. He reads the slip. Midnight is right.

"Rue Summerfield."


	4. midnight breaking

I walk up to the stage, biting hard on my lip to hold back any emotion. I need all the sponsors I can get, and most people would choose a strong career likely to win and get their money's worth over a weak, district eleven girl. "Okay, who will join her?" Meyer sizes me up, and, clearly disappointed, turns his back on me and goes to pick a slip from the boy's reaping ball. "Thresh Tarragon." Thresh marches like a soldier, cold, emotionless. I wonder how he does it. I am inches from a meltdown and he doesn't even seem angry ._Almost as if he knew._ "Ok that's it for another year, let's go kids!" Meyer says, and the peacekeepers practically drag us off the stage. We are taken to a room in the justice building. It is the biggest, grandest room I have ever seen, coated in rich red velvet. I sit down on the soft crimson sofa, playing with the hem of my dress.

My family are the first to come in. Willow rushes ahead of the rest and hugs me hard, so hard I can't breathe. Her eyes are red with misery, the skin around them raw and puffy. When the rest come in, I see their eyes look the same. I am swathed in a cascade of hugs and crying, until soon I let down my walls and become an emotional wreck too. "Please, don't let them catch you, little bird." My father's terrified eyes contrast the playful nickname, one he hasn't called me since mother died. "I won't!" I say and cry all over again.

A few minutes later, Midnight's footsteps resound in the hallway behind the door. I am about to run toward her, millions of questions forming in my mind. Then I see the chains wrapped around her arms, the grim-faced peacekeepers surrounding her, and I hold back. She advances slowly before hugging me. "I need to tell you something," she whispers. I catch the tone of her voice and sob loudly to stop the peacekeepers getting suspicious. They turn away, not in the mood to hear a tribute's pitiful cries for the millionth time. "Okay, you remember what happened yesterday with the guns and my leg? Well they followed the blood and it led them to our house and me. The head peacekeeper was there and they wanted to impress him so they are going to kill me 'as an example to others'. They also had suspicions that you were part of this, but I said nothing so they rigged the reaping and now you and Thresh are probably going to have an 'accident' staged. I am so sorry!" At this point she starts sobbing and the peacekeepers tell us we have had all our time. They practically drag her off, but just before the door closes, she looks at me and whistles my four note call. Telling me the pain is over.


	5. mockingjay's dream

I am distraught by the time I get on the train. Meyer struts into the first carriage, refusing to acknowledge anyone. Thresh gets in further back, in a hearty conversation with Chaff, one of our mentors and two victors from eleven. He has been avoiding me since the reaping. Seeder, our other mentor and victor, smiles when she sees me and runs to embrace me." Are you okay sweetie?" she asks. She was childhood friends with my mother and has known me since I could walk. She puts an arm around me and we walk inside. "Midnight ..." I say before I dissolve to yet more tears.

"I know. Shh, let's go to your carriage and get you some warm tea."

Once in the beautiful room that is my carriage, she tucks me into the soft bed, slips the covers over me and orders a chamomile tea. My mother used to pick chamomile flowers and braid them into my hair so she could take it home without the peacekeepers thinking it was anything other than some daisies. Then she would make tea to soothe my father's ragged nerves and lily's sleepless nights. The comforting smell reminds me of her as I sip the hot tea gingerly. My shaking hands spill the occasional drop, honey-coloured stains on the floral duvet. "There, is that better?" She smiles Do you remember when I used to look after you when you were little? Whenever you got ill I would give you a bath, put you in bed and rub the space between your eyes until you fell asleep." I nod shrinking back to the time when I was barely two. She leans over and starts to rub, humming a beautiful tune under her breath. I close my eyes and let the sweet notes lull me to sleep.

I dream of home. Midnight's soft laugh, Willow's delicate frame, the twins playing in the fields, Lilly's big brown eyes, Oaky's dark curls falling around his cheeky smile, the mockingjays in my meadow. Suddenly, my happy memories are interrupted by a much stranger dream. Of a girl, with olive skin and a brown braid. She looks almost like midnight but her eyes are grey, sharp as steel and full of fear. "Rue, Rue!" she calls over and over in panic. "I'm here!" I try to shout back but I can't, my voice seems to be gone. My eyes zoom in on her coat were a pin resides. It is a mockingjay grasping a golden arrow. Suddenly a man's voice whispers in an accent I can't place "The Mockingjay lives." It echoes over and over until I wake up screaming.

"Little girl, shut up and get out here! We need to watch the returns of today's reaping!" Snaps Meyer as he walks past. I stop screaming, sigh, get out of bed and look in the wardrobe for something warmer to wear. The strange dream has left me cold and tingling all over. I choose a silky blue night gown and lined white slippers then go out to the long corridor, following Meyer. We enter a richly decorated carriage with a silver screen covering one wall. Thresh and Chaff glare at Meyer with contempt as he passes, but Thresh looks away when I try to catch his eye. His sudden ignorance of me is the last thing I need. "Hey honey, why the long face? Come sit over here!" calls Chaff, clearly drunk. I ignore him and go and sit on the other side of the carriage, still shivering. Seeder is nowhere to be seen, probably gone to bed. The horror of being the mentor of children probably about to die always leaves her with bags under her eyes and tear tracks on her face for the whole games.

The screen suddenly flickers to life with the anthem and seal of Panem Before playing the district 1 reaping. I do my best to only focus on the names, not the gritted teeth and tears of the soon to be tributes who will all have to die if me or thresh were to win. Glimmer and Marvel from 1, Cato and Clove from 2, Amber and Chip from 3, Nettie and Perch from 4, Surge and Finch from 5, Axel and Diesel from 6, Birch and Suzanne from 7, Silky and tack from 8, Amelia and Jack from 9 and Melody and Rory from 10 . They also played through our reaping and I sighed when I saw myself walking up to the stage looking petrified. Now I know I have even less chance of sponsors then I thought I did.

The final Reaping brings a shock. The escort calls the name of a twelve year old girl who walks up to the stage, even more afraid then I was. Suddenly someone screams "I volunteer." The crowd is stunned. Volunteering only happens in career districts where it is an honour to do so. They train their whole lives to win so it is practically a custom for the strongest child in the district to volunteer at their second reaping. The camera finally finds the volunteer. My heart stops.

It's the girl from my dream.


End file.
